Chapter Two
Chrissie’s first thoughts upon rising were of gratitude that she had awakened in this place where she felt no fear and where she was loved and appreciated. It had been the same every morning since she’d arrived on Cannonball Island. Each new day, she rose cheerfully before the sun and dressed with a smile on her lips. She happily greeted everyone who came into the store, laughing at the same jokes the old watermen had made the week before, looking into the eyes of everyone with the growing sense of being one of them, of belonging, of being accepted for who she was. And for the first time in a long time, Chrissie knew for certain who she was and where she belonged. She had Carter, Singer, and Blake blood commingling in her veins: she was a child of the island.
Living with Doug had taken so much from her, starting with what Ruby had dubbed her Chrissieness when she’d first arrived for the wedding. While she was still searching for her self-confidence—always fragile—and her self-image had suffered immeasurably, she was over blaming herself for the way Doug had treated her and accepting of the fact that she deserved better. Every day now she felt a little stronger, and every day she gave thanks for the fact that she’d somehow found the strength to leave and not look back.
Every morning she looked forward to those first few moments alone in the store, when she’d walk through the quiet dark, turning on the lights as she crossed the scuffed floor to unlock the door. She’d step onto the porch and pause to watch the sun begin to rise over the river. Then she’d go back inside and make coffee in one of the oversized pots that Ruby kept on a counter. Then she’d make hot water for those early folks who preferred tea or hot chocolate. She’d go back into the kitchen and bring out the trays of whatever she’d baked and wrapped the night before and set them on the counter near the cash register.
Alfred Dooley, a wizened man of indeterminable age, was almost always first through the door, and he always greeted her the same way.
“Good morning, sweet cheeks. It’s gonna be a cold one.” Or a warm one, or a windy one, depending. His greeting changed only with the weather. He’d go directly to the pots of water and ask, “Got that tea water ready yet?”
“Almost, Mr. Dooley,” she’d tell him.
He’d lean over the trays, as if checking out every piece of whatever she’d baked before making his selection. He’d eat standing up there at the counter, and when he was finished, he’d announce, “If I were fifty years younger, I’d marry you, girl.”
And inevitably, someone else who’d come into the store would call to him, “Al, if you were fifty years younger, you’d still be an old coot!”
The banter would continue until every one of the island’s watermen had come and gone. Ruby’d join her at the cash register before the last of the early crew had left for their boats, and she’d contribute to the chatter.
“Hmmm. Looks like those baked doughnuts you stayed up to make last night are gone,” Ruby noted the morning after their dinner with Grace.
“They sold out really fast. I left a couple in the kitchen for you.”
“I had me one with my first spot of tea,” Ruby said. “Savin’ the other for later, maybe for my afternoon break.”
The early rush of watermen being over, Chrissie poured herself a cup of coffee and had time for two sips before a truck drove up and parked in front of the store. Grace craned her neck to see out the window.
“Hmmph. Tom be early today,” she said.
“I’ll take care of him.” Chrissie went to the door and opened it. “Morning, Tom.”
“Morning, Chris. Got a big delivery today.”
“Can I help?” she asked.
“Nope, but thanks. I got it.” He opened the back of the truck and began to unload some large cartons that he stacked on the ground next to the truck. When he finished, he brought them inside, one by one.
“Got that extra carton of soup you asked for, Miz Carter,” he told Ruby, and she nodded in acknowledgment.
“Where do you want these?” he asked Chrissie. “Usual place?”
“That would be fine, yes. Thank you. Right there near the first set of shelves would be fine.”
Tom stacked the boxes neatly for her, then held out a clipboard onto which he snapped an invoice. He went over each box and its contents before Chrissie signed for it.
“See you next week.” He smiled at Chrissie and blew a kiss to Ruby, who rolled her eyes.
“What man think it be cute to pretend to kiss an old woman?” Ruby said when Tom had closed the door behind him. “He means well, and he has a good heart, but he still be a bit of a fool.”
“I think he’s just showing affection for you, Gigi.” Chrissie left her coffee on the counter and grabbed a box cutter from a drawer in the counter. She lifted the top box from the stack closest to her and sliced it open. “Paper towels,” she told Ruby.
“You know where they go.”
“I do indeed.”
“Newspaper here yet?” Ruby asked.
“It’s already on your table.” Chrissie nodded in the direction of the round table on the opposite side of the store.
“Thank you. I think I be setting for a bit.”
Chrissie proceeded to open each box, unpacking the contents and placing them on the shelves where they belonged. The first week she’d been there, she’d thought she’d rearrange some items, but she’d inadvertently caused a panic.
“Folks know where things supposed to be,” Ruby’d told her. “Don’t be messin’ with the natural order of things.”
It had been on the tip of Chrissie’s tongue to ask what was natural about the order of toilet paper stacked on a shelf next to bags of potato chips, but apparently that was what worked on Cannonball Island. Who was she, Chrissie wondered tongue in cheek, to question it?
When she finished with the shelves, she broke down the boxes and piled them next to the bait cooler near the front door for Tom to pick up next time. She picked up her coffee where she’d left it, but before she could raise the mug to her lips, Ruby said, “That be cold by now. Pour yourself some new and come over here and set for a minute.”
Chrissie did as she was told and took the chair opposite Ruby. The coffee was delicious, and she wondered as she took a sip why it seemed better than any coffee she’d had before. Must be some of Ruby’s magic, Chrissie mused, though she dared not voice that thought.
“What be your plan for today?” Ruby asked.
“I thought I’d clean up around the store, then go into town and see what the market has that I can make for dinner.”
Ruby held her tea with both hands, her fingers tapping impatiently on the side of the cup. Chrissie’d come to recognize the gesture to mean Ruby was gearing up to make a pronouncement, but she knew it wouldn’t move the conversation along to ask. She’d just have to wait Ruby out till she was good and ready.
Finally, Ruby said, “How long you plan on hiding out here in the store?”
“What?” Chrissie was taken aback. “I’m not hiding.”
“Course you are.”
“Gigi, I’m out and about on the island every day. I go into St. Dennis every morning to shop.”
“And then you hightail back here fast as you can.” Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I don’t see.”
“I don’t know what you think I’m hiding from. I’m not even hiding from Doug, because he has no idea I’m here. He doesn’t even know this place exists. He never cared enough to ask me about my family and he never listened when I tried to tell him.”
“I’m not talking about that fool boy you took up with. Not even worth my breath, him.” Clearly annoyed by the very thought of Doug, Ruby dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “You be hiding from yourself, Christiana, and that be a fact. Time to take a few steps out of that box you got yourself in. Time to start to shine, way you supposed to.”
Chrissie took a deep breath. No one ever called her by her given name, and most people, when seeing it written out, thought it was misspelled, assuming her name was Christina. Somewhere in her father’s memory the name Christiana had left a mark, and when she was born, it had resurfaced; at least that was what her mother had always told her.
“I don’t know what you want me to do.” Chrissie rested her arms on the table.
“I want you to be yourself. I want you to do what you be meant to do.”
Chrissie shrugged. “I don’t even know what that is.”
Ruby smacked the table with the newspaper, not enough to make Chrissie jump, but enough that it got her attention.
“Why you being so dense, girl? You been in that kitchen three, four times every day since you got here, and you worked your own kinda magic. You need to get out of my kitchen and into someone else’s.” Ruby stared at Chrissie as if waiting for her to catch on. Finally, when Chrissie hadn’t responded, she said, “I spell it out for you, since you don’t be as quick as I be giving you credit for: you need to get a job.”
“Gigi, I can pay you rent, if that’s what this is about. I should have thought of that sooner, all these months I’ve lived here and—”
“Oh, you hush. I don’t need your money. What’d I do with more money? Got all I need. What I need is to see you moving on. Not moving away—just getting on with your life. Got me thinking you’re afraid, like you were before you got here.”
“I was afraid for a long time,” Chrissie admitted.
“You think I didn’t know that? Girl, remember who you’re talking to here.”
Chrissie’s mouth stretched into a smile. “You know everything, don’t you?”
“Not everything. Can’t always see what was, sometimes just see what is. It’s just a knowing. Don’t need to be putting a name on it. No rhyme or reason, far as I can tell. Some things I just know or see. Not everything, and not all the time, and just mostly things about them who be one of mine.”
“And I’m one of yours.”
Ruby nodded. “Always have been. Your mama, she be on her own. I can’t be helping her. She burned her bridges, sure as life. She tried taking you away from the island, but you found your way back, just like you had to. Lisbeth did the same. You and Lis, you’re my girls.”
Chrissie came up behind her and put her arms around Ruby, and for a moment, Ruby let her hold on.
“You understand why I think you need to get out in the world again, make your own way?” Ruby asked softly.
“I do. But my only work experience is in restaurants, Gigi.”
“Seems then you answered your own question.” And just that quickly, the moment was gone, and Chrissie released the hold she’d had on her. Ruby took a sip from her cup, then frowned. “Cold.”
“I’ll get you another cup.” When Chrissie reached for the cup, Ruby grabbed her hand.
“You be good at what you do. Too good to be spending all your days cooking for just yourself and an old woman.”
“I enjoy cooking for you, Gigi. And I thank you for . . .” Chrissie paused, trying to find the words to tell her great-grandmother how much it meant to her that she’d opened her home and taken her in when she had no place else to go where she’d be safe.
As if Ruby knew, she released Chrissie’s hand and said, “This be your place, Chrissie. Always been, always will be. No need to thank me for what’s already yours. No harm ever going to come to you here. But you got to do what you be meant to do. More in store for you than cooking in my kitchen. Grace said you do as good as the cooks at the inn, maybe you should be there with them.”
“The inn has the reputation for having the best kitchen on the Eastern Shore. The chef is the best. I’m not sure I’m ready for the inn. But if you think I should, maybe I’ll stop and talk to Grace when I go into town this week.”
“Not about what I think you should do. What you think you should do. What’s in your head, girl?”
“I’ve never cooked for that many people, in that big a venue. I’m used to a smaller kitchen, and I don’t think I’d like the hustle of one that big, one that has so much going on, and such a lofty reputation to uphold. I don’t think I’d be comfortable there.”
“You be afraid of it?”
Chrissie shook her head. “I just know what makes me happy. I’ve never been comfortable in a crowd. I’ve been to the inn. I’ve seen their kitchen. They have a big staff there. It’s not fear, Gigi. I’m just more of a small-pond kinda girl.”
“I understand that. Some of us be all right in any pond. There be other places in St. Dennis. Seems to me soon enough some be hiring, tourists be on the rise in another month or so, might be a new baby on the way be slowing someone down. You need to get out and look around on your own.”
“I’ve seen most of the other restaurants in town. They’re all so much more upscale than the places I’ve worked for. Lola’s is so gourmet; they do so many French entrées, I can hardly read the menu in the window. I’ve only worked in one place that wasn’t a diner.”
“Don’t need to be gourmet—whatever that means. And don’t need to be selling yourself short.”
“I’m really not. I’m a good cook, I know that. It’s just been easier to stay here and do for you while I—well, got over things.”
“You not be over everything. I know what I see. Right now, I be knowing it’s time for you to get out and do what you do.”
“You’re right, but some things take longer than others to get over.”
“You can leave that load right where you left that man. Not worthy of you, him.”
“I know that now.” Chrissie nodded. “And you know that I know that.”
Ruby nodded, her green eyes twinkling. “Don’t never be thinking you be fooling me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll definitely check around, see what’s available.” Chrissie stood, then leaned over and kissed Ruby on the cheek. “Thanks, Gigi. It’s been so long since someone was in my corner, since someone believed in me. Well, other than Rob at the café. Before that, I didn’t think I was good enough to move on to something better. It seemed I was always moving backward. It’s taken me a while, but I feel like myself again.”
“You keep that little man’s voice outta your head,” Ruby said sharply. “He had his say long enough. Time to listen to yourself.” She smiled. “And to me, of course.”
“I’m listening, Gigi.” Chrissie smoothed back a wisp of thin white hair from Ruby’s forehead. “I still want to take care of you, though.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She felt Ruby tense, then grab hold of her wrist.
“Now, who do you think be taking care of me before you?”
“Ah . . . I didn’t mean . . . I thought Owen . . .”
“Owen had his hands full, missy. I been taking care of myself since my Harold died, and that be before you were born. I don’t need no one to take care of me.” She loosened her grip. “But if sometime you be wanting to cook me some oysters like you did last night, or some crab like you did the night before, I be here to eat them.”
“Got it.” Chrissie nodded. “I think I’ll just go on into St. Dennis now, see what the market has today.”
Chrissie backed up a step or two, then headed toward the second floor to get her bag. She was halfway to the stairwell when Ruby called to her. “Won’t hold it against you if you come back with some rockfish and a couple’a lemons. Course, would be nice if you got me that tea before you took off . . .”
• • •
CHOOSING TO WALK into St. Dennis had been the right choice. She’d changed from her early morning work clothes into a pair of black yoga pants and a pale pink top. She’d tied up her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her dark shades, and put on her running shoes, since the walk would be her workout for today. The sky was blue, the air temperate, and there was just enough balance of sun and shade to make it a perfect morning. Chrissie crossed the bridge between Cannonball Island and the mainland and strolled along the sandy shoulder of Charles Street, St. Dennis’s main street, which stretched from the island through the center of town, and clear out to the highway. She passed a pond where a heron feasted on its morning catch and several Victorian-era houses that were set back from the road. The trees were just beginning to leaf out and the birds had started their migration north. The bare branches were filled with the transients that stopped at the bay to refuel before resuming their flights.
With every step, her mind replayed her conversation with Ruby, who of course was right about everything she’d said. It was time for Chrissie to step out and join the world again. She’d gotten too comfortable at the store, the routine easy and gentle on one who’d been kicked around—mentally and physically—for far too long. Another life, Chrissie told herself. Not this one. Not anymore.
She hadn’t been kidding when she told Ruby that she always seemed to be sliding backward, because she had been. Whenever she’d been moved up in whatever kitchen she was working, Doug had been relentless in convincing her she’d fail if she tried to move to the next level, and he’d talk her into quitting and going elsewhere, where she’d start at the same low level she’d been at. The cycle had been broken when Rob, who’d been the head chef at the last diner she’d worked at, left to open La Luna and begged Chrissie to come with him.
“You’re too good—way too good—to work in diners like this one the rest of your life. Come with me,” he’d told her, “and I’ll make a head chef out of you one day.”
Of course, Doug had done his best to undermine her confidence, telling her Rob would end up firing her once her true lack of skill was exposed, that roadside diners, not fancy cafés, were where she belonged. But Rob had been as tenacious in helping her believe she deserved better, she deserved more. In the end, Doug had given in, though Chrissie knew it wasn’t because he believed in her but because Rob offered to pay her more than she’d been making at the diner. That she had thrived at La Luna had been her little secret. She’d never once shared Rob’s words of encouragement or praise with Doug, because she knew he’d somehow turn those words around. For reasons she’d never understood, Doug took every one of her accomplishments as a slap in his face, which he’d then take out on her. Over the past year she’d read enough—on her breaks, of course, never at home—to begin to recognize that only a badly damaged person would react to another’s success the way Doug had, and in a way, she’d felt sorry for him. She’d tried to get him to open up about his past to help her understand him a little better, but all he’d say when she asked about his childhood was, “It wasn’t good.”
There were days when she could barely believe she’d walked away from him and left behind all the baggage he’d refused to share. Maybe someday he’d get help to overcome his anger and his bitterness, both of which had fueled his drug and alcohol addictions, but she doubted it.
Why had she stayed so long? She’d loved him, or thought she had. Over time she began to understand that what had drawn her to him was the mere fact that such a beautiful man had desired her. She’d always considered herself the ugly duckling of the family. So when a man like Doug paid attention, she was beyond flattered. From the first time she met him, she’d been drawn to his good looks, his easy charm, and the fact that he’d made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Because she had self-esteem issues, he’d struck all the right notes. He was four years older, had already graduated from college, and seemed to have a brilliant future as an accountant. He’d talked her into quitting college in her junior year and moving in with him. If things went well, he’d said, they could get married after they’d had time to build up savings for a house. She couldn’t believe that such a man wanted to share his life with her.
But by the time she realized his beauty was only superficial, they’d moved in together and she knew moving out would not be that simple. Over time the girl she’d been—the one who’d loved to dance, loved eighties rock and who’d sing “Come On, Eileen” at the top of her lungs in the shower, who loved to read and would spend hours in the library, picking up random books to learn something she hadn’t known before—was lost, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to bring her back.
And over time, Doug’d stopped talking about marriage, and for that, she’d been grateful.
She’d learned a lot since then. She still had some self-esteem and self-image issues, but she’d been working on that.
Chrissie pushed aside any thoughts of Doug and the life she’d left behind. She was a new person now, a person who was finding her own happiness in her own way and in her own place. She wasn’t about to let anything or anyone take her joy or spoil this morning for her.
In one hand she carried a hardcover book Ruby had asked her to drop off to Grace, so she turned at the entrance to the Inn at Sinclair’s Point. The driveway was fairly long and curved in several places, so the inn didn’t come into view until you were halfway there and the ancient pines gave way to gardens and hedges. The venerable building was three full stories of white clapboard with a front porch that went clear across the inn. Tall white pillars reached to the second floor to support the balcony. On one side, a wing stretched into a lawn that even now, at the end of April, was thick and green. The wing on the opposite side overlooked tennis courts, and a well-equipped playground stood between the inn and the bay.
Several guests, some wearing tennis whites, sat in rocking chairs on the front porch as Chrissie took the steps two at a time. She went inside the wide front door and followed the hall past a large ballroom where a young woman with long blond hair appeared to be setting up for an event.
“Hey, Lucy,” Chrissie called in through the open double doors.
“Hi, Chrissie.” Lucy Sinclair Montgomery, Grace’s daughter and the inn’s event planner, waved back.
Chrissie glanced around the room, which appeared to be in the process of being dressed up.
“Looks great.” Chrissie nodded in the direction of the large round tables where lush, colorful floral decorations were being placed.
“Thanks. Fashion show tomorrow night. You should come. Lis and Cass will be here, and I know you’ve met most of their friends from town.” Lucy reached into her pocket and took out an envelope. Handing it to Chrissie, she said, “Two tickets. It’ll be fun. Besides, I need to fill chairs.”
“Thanks, but I don’t really know anyone to give the extra ticket to. I doubt that you’ll have a problem packing the place, but I’ll try to make it.” She tucked the envelope into her bag. “Any idea where I’d find your mom this morning?”
“Try her office,” Lucy said. “Third door on the left. If she’s not in there, check out the lobby.”
“Will do. Thanks. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“See you tomorrow night.”
Chrissie knocked on Grace’s closed office door when she reached it, but there was no answer. She turned the door handle and gave it a slight push, and when it opened, she peered inside. The lights were on and there were papers scattered upon a desk, but no Grace.
Chrissie closed the door and walked toward the lobby, which was straight ahead. There she saw Grace at the registration desk in conversation with a family that appeared to be checking in or checking out. Chrissie walked the perimeter of the room, glancing at the artwork, while she waited. Finally, Grace was free, and seeing Chrissie, she broke into a wide smile.
“Thank you so much for dropping off the book,” Grace said as she drew closer. “I meant to bring it home with me the other night but it slipped my mind.” Her smile widened. “Must have been those delicious oysters that made me forget everything else.”
“Thanks, Grace.” Chrissie handed her the book. “Anytime you’d like to come by for dinner with Ruby and me, you just let us know. You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll certainly be back,” Grace assured her. “Now, where are you off to?”
“The market, but I really want to stop at Scoop. I’ve had this craving for ice cream for the past few days.”
“There’s no ice cream like Scoop’s. Have a cone for me.” Grace paused. “On second thought, I might have to make my way down there later this afternoon.”
“I could bring you something if you like,” Chrissie offered.
“Thank you, but as you know, part of the fun is walking into that sweet little shop and reading the day’s flavors for oneself.” The phone in Grace’s pocket began to ring.
“You take that,” Chrissie said. “I should be moving along anyway.”
“Thank you again.” Grace took the phone from her pocket and headed back toward her office.
A group of seven women who appeared to be in their midtwenties came in through the automatic double doors at the side of the lobby. They stopped at the registration desk and one by one dropped their luggage to the floor. A minute later, a tall man wearing worn jeans, a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a Philadelphia Eagles ball cap approached them and struck up a conversation with the last woman in the line, a short pretty blonde. Her eyes appeared to shine approvingly as she turned to look into his face. As Chrissie passed by, she heard the woman say, “Just till Sunday. Girls’ weekend.”
Chrissie went through the automatic doors and onto the small back porch, where she stood for a moment to look around. She’d been to the inn before, but she’d never taken the time to discover all the resort offered. On a whim, she walked down to the bay, past a large shed where bicycles stood waiting to be rented. Ten feet away, kayaks and canoes stood up against the wall of the boathouse. Chrissie passed by it all and went right to the bay. The grass grew almost to the water’s edge, and off to the right the wetland was teeming with life. She sheltered her eyes from the sun with one hand to look across the bay, but the Chesapeake was too wide to see clear to the other side. A clang of the metal gate at the opening to the playground drew her attention, and she heard several very young children shrieking to be first on a slide. She knew that in the summer months, the inn employed its own babysitters so parents could enjoy a game of tennis while their offspring played in the sand or on the swings, but today, the parents were on their own. As she looked around the inn’s grounds, it was pretty clear that Dan, Grace’s son who’d taken over running the inn, had thought of everything.
Thinking of Dan Sinclair brought to mind his wife, Jamie Valentine, the writer whose books about relationships had been bestsellers the year before. One of the waitresses at the café had left one of the titles in the small break room in the back of the restaurant, and it was there that Chrissie had first picked up the book that helped her to change her life. In the pages of The Honest Relationship, Chrissie had recognized exactly what her relationship with Doug had become. She’d gone on to read The Honest Life, and by the time she’d gotten to the last page, she realized that every day she stayed with Doug was one more day she’d spend lying to herself. It had taken her close to a year to leave, but in that year, she managed to quietly do what was necessary for her to step out of her dishonest life and leave her toxic relationship behind. When she’d met Jamie at Owen’s wedding, it was all she could do not to gush.
“Your books have changed my life,” Chrissie’d told Jamie.
“Tell me.” Jamie’d sat next to Chrissie and listened.
And Chrissie had told her everything.
When she was finished, Jamie’s eyes were filled with tears, and she’d hugged Chrissie tightly. “Thank you,” she’d said. “You have no idea how much it means to me to know that my books helped you in some small way to help yourself.”
“No small way. It’s no exaggeration to say you probably saved my life,” Chrissie’d told her, and from that conversation, a friendship was born.
As she walked toward the driveway, Chrissie looked back at the building, wondering if Jamie had returned from her latest book tour. Not that she had time to visit, Chrissie reminded herself. She had an errand to run and she really wanted to stop at Scoop.
She’d just reached the driveway when she heard someone calling her name.
“Hey, Chrissie?”
She turned, not certain she was the Chrissie who was being paged. The tall guy with the green Eagles cap she’d seen in the lobby chatting up the pretty blonde was jogging toward her.
“It’s Chris, right? Chrissie?” He stopped ten feet away, and she realized who he was. Jared Chandler. Owen’s friend who’d made Chrissie feel like a stammering idiot at both of her cousins’ weddings when he’d tried to make conversation with her, but she hadn’t been up to the challenge of talking to him for any length of time. She’d still believed that guys like Jared were way out of her league, and she’d acted like it. She’d danced with him when he asked, but there’d been little conversation. When the song ended, he’d walked her back to her table like a gentleman, then disappeared. She noticed him dancing later with a friend of Cass’s from college, with whom he’d left at the end of the evening.
That Chrissie—the one who couldn’t carry on a conversation with a hot-looking guy—was the old Chrissie. The new Chrissie was determined to do better.
“Right. Hi, Jared.” She could almost feel a blush beginning to rise from her chest to her face, but she mentally beat it down. Hopefully his shades were dark enough that he couldn’t tell.
“I thought that was you. Owen’s cousin, right? From the weddings?”
She nodded.
“So how’ve you been?”
“Good. You?” Apparently the new Chrissie was still working on her conversational skills.
“Work’s a little slow right now.” He gestured toward the general direction of the island. “The state is trying to decide which is more important, the Native American settlement at the bottom of the river, or the merchant ship from the early 1800s that’s sitting on top of it, so things are a little quiet.”
“That’s right. You’re a diver, like Owen.” She tried to recall what her cousin had told her about the boat they were salvaging, but Jared had removed his sunglasses, and at the moment, all she could think of were his dark blue eyes, which were looking directly into hers. “He mentioned something about an old camp but didn’t go into detail.”
“We’re naturally more interested in getting to the ship—that’s what we’re here for—but no one’s made a decision yet, so everything’s on hold.”
She nodded again. She wasn’t sure what the laws were regarding salvaging archaeological sites, and didn’t know if Jared would be inclined to explain them.
“So where are you off to?” he asked.
“I have a few errands in town, then my weekly stop at Scoop.”
“You’re going to Scoop? I keep hearing about that place. Supposed to be the best ice cream on the Eastern Shore.”
“It totally is. I’m surprised you haven’t checked it out yet. It’s a definite must when you’re in St. Dennis.”
“Hey, do you mind if I tag along? I’ll even drive.”
“I don’t mind, but I’m walking. If you want to ride, I’ll meet you there.” Pat on the back for not taking the ride with the hot guy when she really did want to walk.
“Well, it’s a beautiful morning. I guess I’ll walk with you.”
Chrissie smiled. “Try to keep up.”
Jared laughed and easily kept pace. His long stride soon bested hers, and she had to ask him to slow down.
“Your legs are longer than mine,” she said. “Not a fair contest.”
“Hey, you were the one who told me to keep up with you.”
“A mistake on my part.”
“So tell me again, what you do? I know we talked at the weddings, but I don’t remember what you said about that.”
“Probably because I didn’t say anything about working. Because I’m not. Well, I do work in Ruby’s store, but it’s not like a job.”
“Ruby’s store? You mean the general store on the island?”
Chrissie nodded.
“I’ve been there a couple of times. I don’t recall seeing you there.”
“When were you in last?”
Jared appeared to think about that for a moment before saying, “I guess the end of the summer or so. I left this job to work on another job my dad had lined up. When we finished up that dive at the end of February, I came back here to work with Owen, but then we got put off.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked. “Which is okay, I guess, since it’s been a while that I’ve taken any real time off.”
“I didn’t get here until the end of September for the wedding, so I wouldn’t have been around when you stopped in.”
“So Ruby’s your, what, grandmother? Great-grandmother?”
“Great-grandmother, yes.”
“She ever spook you?”
“What?” The question was totally unexpected.
His grin was that of a seven-year-old who knew he’d said something provocative. “Ruby. She ever say anything that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up?”
Chrissie laughed. “Many times. But you—?”
Jared nodded. “Oh yeah. One time I dropped in at the store to see Owen but he wasn’t there. Ruby was just getting ready to have dinner and she asked me to join her. So I said sure, since it was nice of her to invite me, plus I was starving. I’d just gotten into town and didn’t know anywhere else to go, so it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“What did she do? She read your palm? Tarot cards?” Chrissie asked, knowing full well Ruby did neither of those things.
“No. We’re sitting there talking, and all of a sudden she says, ‘You’re heading south.’ And yeah, I was. My dad opened up new headquarters in South Carolina and that was going to be my next stop, so I figured that was what she was referring to.
“But then she tells me there was going to be stormy weather soon and I needed to mind my instincts. Which I thought was strange, but, okay. Then my dad calls out of the blue and tells me he needs me to fly down to the Keys and look at a job he’d been asked to take over from another salvor who’d botched it. So I go down there and right from the start, everything’s off. The crew, the equipment, the salvage boat itself—nothing’s up to our standards, so I called my dad and told him I didn’t want us to take the job. Fortunately, my dad trusts me, and he turned the job down. Someone else came in, took it over, and four days into it a hurricane hit and the ship went down with everyone on it.” He shook his head. “Trusted my instincts, all right. Funny thing is, I’d forgotten about what she’d said about a storm until after I’d heard what happened. Then I got goose bumps, head to toe. Seriously freaked me out.”
“Did you ever tell Owen that story?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t seem to think it was anything out of the ordinary. I guess he’s used to it. Her coming out with stuff like that.” Their arms touched as they walked. “Don’t you think it’s odd? Or are you immune to that sort of thing, too?”
“Not immune so much as not surprised. I guess the only thing that surprises me at all is that she said something to someone out of the family. So she must like you.”
“Better to be liked by the woman who knows all than not,” he said.
Chrissie laughed again. “She can be disconcerting, that’s for sure, but she has the kindest, truest heart of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Owen said the same thing.”
She found him easy to talk to, and she relaxed enough to enjoy their chatter as they walked along the shoulder of the road.
“So you grew up around here?” he asked.
“No. Born in Salisbury, south of here, raised outside of Pittsburgh, but my mom was from Cannonball Island. She’s Ruby’s granddaughter. I spent most of my summers on the island growing up.”
“It must have been pretty cool. There’s so much for a kid to do there. Ponds, the marsh, the point, the bay.”
“Crabbing from the dock, digging for oysters in the bay, swimming. Catching frogs and other fun critters in the marsh.”
“You’re the first girl I ever heard say she liked catching frogs. I’m impressed.”
“When you’re a kid, and you’ve read every book you own, and there’s no TV, you learn to play with what you’ve got. In our case, it was the island.”
“Back then, it must have seemed like one big playground,” Jared said.
“That’s exactly what it was. One big playground, and for the most part, it was just ours.”
“No other kids on the island?”
“There were some friends that Lis and Owen went to school with in St. Dennis, but odd as it seems now, back then, a lot of island families sent their kids to relatives off island for the summer. In retrospect, I think maybe they didn’t have anyone to watch the kids while they worked, so sending them off to Grandma’s might have been easier than finding a babysitter.”
She stumbled a little on a stone and he caught her elbow. “Thanks,” she said. “So how ’bout you? Where are you from?”
“I grew up in Boston.”
“Siblings?”
“I have a sister, Rachel. She’s a diver, runs salvaging jobs for our dad, and is married to a marine archaeologist who also works for the company. They have two little demons—I mean, little boys. When my nephews get a little bigger, we’re going to teach them to dive, too. We’re thinking we’ll be able to pass the business on to the third generation.”
“So I’ll go out on a limb and guess that your mother is a diver as well?” she asked.
“My mother hated anything to do with the business,” he said briskly. “She was a concert pianist and died when I was twelve.”
“I’m so sorry, Jared. I had no way of knowing.”
“You wouldn’t. And it’s okay. It was a long time ago. I don’t remember her much.”
She thought he was about to elaborate a little, but he left it at that. She sensed there was so much more to the story that he’d left unspoken, and that he remembered more than he wanted to admit.
“So what’s so cool about diving? Obviously you like it, and I know Owen loves it, but I don’t get it. No offense, but the thought of going underwater freaks me out.”
“You’re kidding?” When she shook her head no, she wasn’t, Jared asked, “What is it that bothers you?”
“The whole thing. Looking up and seeing the surface of the water above you just seems weird to me. And all the things that live under there! Sharks, rays, barracuda.” She shivered. “If God meant for people to go down there, we’d have been born with gills.”
“If you’d ever gone, you’d look at it entirely differently. You’d see the beauty in the silence, in the way the sunlight shimmers below the surface, the gracefulness of all those things you just named that you’re afraid of.”
“If you say so.”
“You should try it sometime. I could take you, or Owen . . .”
“Not gonna happen in this lifetime.”
“Your loss. Really. It is,” he said to emphasize his point. “But if you ever change your mind—”
“I know who to call. Thanks.”
They reached the light at the center of town and walked left down Kelly’s Point Road, past the municipal building that housed the police department as well as the town’s administration offices. Once past the free parking lots that stretched along each side of the road, Kelly’s Point ended at a boardwalk. To the right was the marina, Captain Walt’s (“Best Seafood on the Bay”), and the boat shop owned by Lis’s husband, Alec. To the left was One Scoop or Two—Scoop to the locals—the ice cream parlor that had once been an old crabbers shack.
Jared reached around Chrissie to open the door, and the bell that hung over it rang weakly. She smiled a thank-you as they stepped inside and started toward the counter. The interior of the shop was much like the exterior, with a rough-hewn floor and walls. There were three people ahead of them in line.
Chrissie whispered to Jared as she pointed to the wood-covered walls. “So much in vogue right now.”
“What, wood walls?” He stared at the wall for a moment. “Says who?”
“Says HGTV.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Where have you been for the past couple of years?”
“On a boat in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Before that, I was in Bermuda, then Costa Rica.”
“I guess we could give you a pass. It’s a television channel about home renovating and decorating.”
Jared made a face. “Sounds like must-see TV.”
Chrissie pointed to a blackboard where a list of flavors was written in different-colored chalk. “Those are the specials,” she told Jared. “But there are other flavors in the cooler.”
He walked closer to the board.
“Hey, Chrissie,” the woman behind the counter called as she filled a cone and handed it to a customer. “What can I get you today?”
“Hi, Stef. Give me a moment to check out the selections.” Chrissie turned to Jared. “Have you met Steffie MacGregor? Owner and creator of the finest ice cream on the Eastern Shore.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Jared took his eyes from the board. “Jared Chandler.”
“Stef, Jared’s with the salvage company—” Chrissie began.
“That’s searching for the merchant ship that went down in 1812 or thereabouts. Yeah, I heard about it.” Tall and leggy with honey blond hair and a quick smile, Steffie nodded as she went to the cash register to ring up the sale. “We’ve had some of your crew in here. Not to mention Owen and Cass.”
“What’s the newest flavor?” Chrissie asked.
Steffie pointed to the board. “The strawberry festival is new this week. Tons of berries and pieces of pecans. The rhubarb pie is also good—not quite as sweet but really tasty. Oh, and the spring fling is amazing if you like chocolate and raspberries.”
“Sold.” Jared moved ahead a few steps as the line moved. Chrissie was still staring at the board.
“I love anything with mint,” Chrissie said.
“Then the mint julep is for you. Best mint flavor I’ve ever been able to make.”
Chrissie nodded. “I definitely need to try that.”
“This is a very cool place,” Jared told Steffie when he and Chrissie had moved to the head of the line.
“Thanks.” She beamed, clearly proud of her business. “It’s all mine. It was a mess when I got it and it seemed like it took forever to fix it up, but it’s my little corner of the world.” She paused, ice cream scoop in her hand. “What can I get you?”
“Chrissie?” Jared deferred to her.
“One scoop of the mint julep,” she said.
“Cone or dish?” Steffie asked.
“Cone, please.”
“And you?” Steffie turned to Jared.
“I’ll have that chocolate thing with the raspberries. Two scoops. You can top them off with some of that strawberry pecan. Cone.”
“A triple-decker cone?” She raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re a fast eater.”
“Good point. Make it a dish.”
“Coming up.”
The bell over the door rang and several other people filed in as Steffie worked behind the cooler. In no time, she had Chrissie and Jared’s orders ready and met them at the cash register. Jared dug in with the spoon before taking his wallet from his back pocket.
“You know, Chrissie, you can come in more than once a week,” Steffie said.
“Right.” Chrissie shook her head. “I think the ice cream looks better in the case than it would on my hips.”
Jared reached behind her and handed several bills to Steffie.
“This is for both,” he told Steffie.
“Jared, you don’t have to pay for my cone,” Chrissie protested.
“A small price for letting me tag along with you.” He took another spoonful of the strawberry. “And for introducing me to the best ice cream I ever had.”
“Thanks.” She grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter. “Stef, I’ll see you next week.”
“Right. Wednesday right before noon. I swear I could set my watch by you,” Steffie said as Jared and Chrissie turned away. “Oh, wait. Chris, you going to the fashion show at the inn tomorrow night?”
“I’m thinking about it. Need a ticket? I have two.”
“I have mine, but thanks. I’ll see you there,” Steffie said. “A whole bunch of us are going. Maybe we could have our own table. I haven’t had a girls’ night since I had the twins, so I’m beyond due. Vanessa’s doing the show, all new stuff from her shop, and somehow she talked my sister-in-law into modeling.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You know who my brother’s married to, right? My husband’s sister?”
Chrissie nodded. “Dallas MacGregor, the movie star. I heard.”
“May I interrupt your conversation by saying that I have been in love with Dallas MacGregor for my entire adult life?” Jared leaned an arm against the cooler.
“You and every other guy who ever gazed upon her gorgeousness,” Steffie said, then added with a smile, “Don’t think it makes you special.
“Anyway, she usually keeps a low profile and only agreed to do it because it’s a charity thing. The money’s to go to the new women’s shelter that’s being set up over on Pearl Street.”
“I heard about that.”
“Yeah, so that’s tomorrow night.” The doorbell rang again and Steffie glanced at the growing line in front of the cooler. “I’ll look for you then. Jared, nice meeting you. Come back again.”
“Count on it.”
They had to cut through the line of customers to get to the door. Jared reached for the handle, then stopped. “Want to get a table in here or go outside?” he asked.
“Outside, for sure,” Chrissie said.
Outside on a small patio were several small tables with umbrellas to block the sun, and along the boardwalk there were backless wooden benches. Chrissie headed for the benches and sat facing the marina and the bay beyond the pier.
“Good choice.” Jared sat next to Chrissie and gazed out at the water. “I noticed these benches earlier.”
“I like watching the water. The sailboats especially. Oh, and those speedy little boats. They look like so much fun.” She licked the side of the cone where the ice cream was starting to drip. “And those big yachts. They look so majestic going by.”
“Sounds like you spend a lot of time watching the bay.”
“Sometimes I like to go out onto the point and just sit at the end of the pier.” She turned to him and asked, “You know the pier, right? Where Lis and Alec’s wedding was?”
Jared nodded. “I remember. That was some party. So was Owen’s. It’s still hard to believe he’s married, though. Owen was always such a rolling stone. Had some of the best times of my life with your cousin.”
“I always remembered him as sort of a good-time kind of guy.”
“Understated, but we won’t quibble. Doesn’t matter now, though. Cass put an end to his wild times.” Jared nudged Chrissie with his shoulder. “I gotta admit, I miss the old Owen sometimes.”
“I guess everyone settles down at some point.”
Jared shook his head. “Not this guy. I can’t see myself ever doing the whole domestic scene.”
“Born to run, eh?”
“Something like that.” He’d finished the top scoop and had started on the middle. “How ’bout you?”
“Tried it once. Didn’t work for me.” She could have said more, but figured the short version was all he really wanted to hear anyway. “So did you get her name?” she asked to change the subject and lighten the mood.
“Whose name?” He frowned as if not understanding the question.
“The blonde in the lobby, the one checking in.”
A grin spread across his face. “Oh, you caught that?”
“I did.”
He didn’t answer one way or the other, but she figured he’d scored the name and probably her phone number. If he’d waited till she’d checked in, chances were he had her room number as well.
He’d finished his ice cream and was wiping his hands off on one of the napkins she’d given him.
“Thanks.” He rolled the napkin into a ball and tossed it with a flourish in the direction of the trash can on the opposite side of the path from where they sat. The napkin went in and he snapped his fingers.
She took the last bite of her cone and looked out at the bay. About two hundred yards from the pier, a trio of sailboats skipped along on the breeze. She wondered what it would feel like to be flying across the water in one of those narrow crafts.
“So I guess you want to get on your way, get your errands done.” Jared stood.
“I really should. Gigi will start to wonder where I am.”
“Nah, the woman who knows everything knows where you are.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” she said as she stood.
They strolled to the end of the walk, then Jared stopped. “Alec’s boat shop is right down there, right?” He pointed to the left.
“It is.”
“I think I’ll stop down and say hi. I heard he has an old skipjack he’s restoring, and I’d like to see it.”
“My great-uncle Eb’s skip,” she said. “It was outside Ruby’s store on cinder blocks forever. It’s a long story how it got to Alec. You might ask him about it.”
“I might do that. Hey, thanks again for letting me tag along this morning.”
“Anytime. And thanks for the cone. My treat next time.”
He took a few backward steps. “Right. Next Wednesday. Same time. Same place.”
Chrissie smiled, then with a wave of her hand started the walk back toward Charles Street. She looked back once, when she got to the parking lot, but by then he was gone.
“Next Wednesday,” he’d said. “Same time. Same place.”
She wondered if he’d remember, and if so, if he’d show—and if he’d even been serious. If she were a betting woman, she’d bet against it.